


On Edge

by s0mmerspr0ssen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Control Issues, M/M, Power Imbalance, Questionable Relationship Dynamics, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0mmerspr0ssen/pseuds/s0mmerspr0ssen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started - rather harmlessly - with a massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Edge

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/15253.html?thread=84133013#t84133013) at the kink meme, asking for Mycroft/John and rimming.

It all started - rather harmlessly - with a massage.  
  
John had always thought it rather ironic that, while Mycroft was the one burdened with responsibility far beyond any normal human being, it was _John_ who was in regular need of cuddles, kisses and pampering.   
  
On the few occasions Mycroft and he were actually able to clear a weekend just for the two of them, it was usually John who was suffering from headaches, back pain or simply plain exhaustion.  
  
One might argue that being Sherlock Holmes' unofficial caretaker would be equally stressing to being the British government, but that didn't make John feel any less guilty about always being on the receiving side of loving administrations - such as the current massage.  
  
Not that he was complaining.  
  
"Hmmm yes," John hummed pleasantly into the mattress as Mycroft's fingers curled expertly into John's tense flesh.  
  
How Mycroft managed to hit all the right spots as if they were easily mapped out on skin, John honestly didn't understand. Maybe, Mycroft could deduce and analyse abused muscles just as easily as fellow politicians.  
  
"I can hear you thinking, John," Mycroft replied easily, thumbs pressing tenderly into John's neck. "Do try and relax, or all the massage in the world will not help."  
  
"I'm relaxing fine," John replied, voice muffled as he talked into the bed.   
  
Mycroft _tsk_ ed and, with an evil twist of his thumbs, send half-painful, half-relieving shivers down John's spine.  
  
"Jesus," John groaned, involuntarily curling his shoulders at the sensation.  
  
Irritated, Mycroft clicked his tongue once more, then removed his hands from John's bare shoulders all together.  
  
"This won't do," he said.  
  
" _I_ liked it," John replied, then carefully rolled onto his back in order to be able and look at Mycroft.  
  
The other man was kneeling on the bed near John's hips, only wearing his dress shirt and trousers. His gleaming dress shoes had been abandoned by the bedroom door along with his socks, his jacket and waistcoat hung over a near-by chair joining John's own jumper and shirt.  
  
John loved seeing him this casual.  
  
"I fear we'll have to try a different approach," Mycroft was saying, eyebrows arching at John's questioning gaze. "Something more - _intimate_ , yes?"  
  
John couldn't help but grin.  
  
"Please," he said, starting to sit up and reach towards Mycroft.

" _No_ ," came the immediate reply, Mycroft's warms hand coming down on John's bare chest, pushing him back into the mattress. "John, no. When will you realise that it is very much my intention that these weekends be mainly about _you_?"

  
He made an all-encompassing gesture at John, himself and the room at large for emphasis.  
  
John sighed in response.  
  
"It doesn't feel right," he murmured. "I want you to have a good time, too."  
  
"Do you _honestly_ believe a Holmes would do anything that was not to his or her own advantage?" Mycroft retorted, eyes sharp. "Altruism doesn't suit my kind."  
  
Smiling smugly, he leaned forward, hands coming to rest on either side of John's chest until he was practically hovering over him, looking right down at John's face.  
  
"I love seeing you melt under my touch," Mycroft said, voice suddenly much lower than before, clearly aiming for seduction. "I love seeing you lose control, I love hearing you whine and whimper and moan. And I love feeling you go pliant in my arms when I am finished with you."  
  
John swallowed.  
  
"Controlling much?" he joked weakly.  
  
Mycroft's smile only grew more smug.  
  
"You like it," he stated, playfully pressing his knee against John's crotch.  
  
John's cock twitched in interest.  
  
"God knows why," John agreed, his answer nearly cut-off by Mycroft's lips pressing against John's own.  
  
Mycroft's kisses always were rather possessive in nature, his tongue eagerly pushing into John's mouth, exploring and claiming every last inch.  
  
John loved it, though. Kissing Mycroft, being touched and prodded, hell, being _fucked_ by Mycroft eventually always managed to make him forget any worries he might have had. It was good, being in the centre of such a powerful man's interest and attention.  
  
Even though - well, hardly being allowed to reciprocate still felt extremely odd to John.   
  
But then, nobody had ever said or expected that dating a Holmes would be an _ordinary_ affair.  
  
"Am I boring you?" Mycroft asked, stopping their kiss as abruptly as it had begun. "Can't you quit mulling things over for the few days we've got to ourselves, at least?"  
  
"How could you _possibly_ bore me?" John replied and laughed at Mycroft's slightly put-out expression. "I am just - thinking, I suppose."  
  
Mycroft's smirk returned almost instantly.  
  
"Well," he purred, "in that case, I'll just have to make you stop, don't I?"  
  
With that, Mycroft went right back to claiming John's mouth. This time, any more thinking was definitely not an option.  
  
Their kiss was heated and passionate, and something about the way Mycroft's tongue deliberately brushed up against John's in long strokes was wickedly arousing.   
  
Soon enough, John was panting against the side of Mycroft's face as the other man's lips had moved on to kiss and suck at John's jawline.  
  
"Hnn," John hummed, squirming a bit. " _Don't_ stop."  
  
"Not part of my agenda in the first place," Mycroft informed him in between kisses.  
  
Mycroft's body was shifting now and John could tell he was balancing more of his weight on his legs in order to get his hands and arms free.  
  
John knew he was right when Mycroft's fingers started to dance over the bare skin of John's stomach a moment later. Mycroft began to trail a line of kisses down John's neck and past his collarbones.  
  
"You taste marvellous," he said appreciatively, teasingly licking over John's right nipple.  
  
John made a highly undignified noise, halfway between a giggle and a moan, squirming some more at the sensation. He was definitely aroused now, could feel his cock wanting to expand past the boundaries of his jeans and underwear.  
  
As if on cue, one of Mycroft's smart hands came to rest on John's fly.  
  
"I'm sure you taste even better down here," he breathed and John moaned, properly this time, when Mycroft's fingers slipped the button open and confidently unzipped John's jeans.  
  
Mycroft abandoned licking and kissing John's skin in favour of helping John remove his jeans and pants, growling lowly once John's hardening cock was revealed.  
  
"Want to put that theory to the test?" John teased, shifting his hips and thighs to present his crotch more obviously.  
  
Mycroft didn't need any more invitation than that.  
  
Shuffling on the bed, Mycroft moved until he could comfortably kneel in between John's spread legs, urging John to angle and draw them back a bit to have more leverage.

The moment Mycroft placed his lips around John's sack, John closed his eyes and simply let go, enjoying the way Mycroft lapped and sucked at his balls, occasionally licked at the base of John's cock with long, steady strokes of his tongue.   
  
A steady wave of sighs and moans slipped past John's lips as he grew harder. Greedily, he tried to push into Mycroft's mouth as the other man's lips wandered lower, lower even, past John's balls and towards-  
  
 _Oh._  
  
Placing a kiss just at the start of John's crack, Mycroft pulled back all together.  
  
"Turn over," he ordered, voice rough with arousal. "Hands and knees."  
  
"Are- are you sure you want...?" John objected breathlessly.  
  
Mycroft only glared at him, lightly shoving at John's legs to tell him what he thought of John's misplaced concern.   
  
Nodding, John hurried to turn over until he was lying on his stomach, his hard cock pressing cruelly into the mattress. Seeking friction, John eagerly rubbed against the bed a few times until Mycroft's mouth was back on his buttocks, placing a messy love bite right in the middle of John's left cheek. It was as much a treat as it was punishment.  
  
John whined.  
  
"Hands and knees, John," Mycroft repeated a tad harshly and, shivering at the tone, John did as he was told.  
  
Once he was settled, his cock hanging heavily between his legs, Mycroft's hands curled tightly around John's arse, slowly parting his buttocks to reveal the tight hole. Teasingly, Mycroft placed wet kisses just next to puckered edge, making John wiggle, trying to get Mycroft's tongue where it would feel so, so much better.  
  
"Eager," Mycroft laughed, breath warm and moist against John's hole. " _Good_."  
  
Then, finally, he lapped at the puckered muscle and every bit of control John might have had left in his body simply vanished. Moaning and whining loudly, John's hands curled into the bed sheets as shivers of pleasure ran down his back. Mycroft lapped at John's hole a few more times, loosening the edge, before he finally pointed his tongue and slipped inside.  
  
As soon as Mycroft's tongue had properly entered him, John couldn't help but push backwards, desperate to feel the wet muscle move inside him, opening him, stimulating him, bringing him closer and closer to his orgasm.  
  
Mycroft complied willingly, hardly holding John in place in favour of fucking John open with his tongue, face buried in John's buttocks.  
  
It felt dirty and wicked and _fucking fantastic_ , the way Mycroft's tongue brushed against the inner edge of the muscle, relaxing it further and further until John was sure that he had to be gaping. He wondered what it had to look like, Mycroft's tongue sliding in and out, the puckered skin of John's hole glistening wetly.  
  
And Mycroft - God, but he wasn't even naked, was he? He was still mostly dressed, in his dress shirt and trousers like the fucking gentleman he was.  
  
The sheer decadence of it nearly brought John over the edge. What did it in the end, though, were a few well-timed strokes by his own hand, combined with an especially mind-blowing twist of Mycroft's clever tongue that sent another round of shivers up and down John's back.  
  
John collapsed as soon as Mycroft's hands fell from his arse, falling onto his stomach in a rather undignified heap, his fingers sticky with his own semen.  
  
"Delicious," Mycroft said smugly, brushing a fond hand over John's arse and quivering thighs.

John grabbed for the nearest pillow and buried his face into it, uncaring that he was smearing semen all over it.  
  
"I can't believe you've done that," he groaned into the fabric, feeling a weird mix of ridiculously pleased and downright dirty.  
  
"I can't believe you're still _thinking_ ," Mycroft answered dryly, voice getting closer as he stretched out by John's side.  
  
John could feel Mycroft's clothed legs brushing against his own bare ones and shuddered.  
  
"I am _not_ ," he said. "I am just... lying here... relaxing... not thinking about... how I should-"  
  
" _Don't_ even say it," Mycroft interjected, a tad of exasperation in his voice. Clearly, any kind of reciprocal action was out for now, even though John was very sure that Mycroft had to be at least somewhat aroused.  
  
John laughed weakly, then turned his head away from the pillow in order to be able to look into Mycroft's eyes.  
  
"I _am_ relaxed," he assured him, smiling.  
  
He was, too. Now that the aftershocks of his orgasm were dying down, John seemed to be melting on the bed, his head starting to feel pleasantly empty.   
  
"I'd hope so," Mycroft said, then leaned in to place a tender peck on John's cheek instead of his lips - perfectly considerate, given where his tongue and lips had been only minutes before.  
  
If John hadn't been so comfortable all of a sudden, he might have aimed for a proper kiss, just to make a point. As it was, John was actually feeling like he was about to doze off.  
  
"I'll just... nap... for a bit," he yawned, blinking at Mycroft's pleasantly fuzzying features. "Then, you should fuck me properly."  
  
Mycroft smiled.  
  
"Sure," he said. "Whatever you'd like."  
___  
 _fin._


End file.
